


What Happens In Limbo

by sdwolfpup



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: F/M, Limbo, Warphy, cock-blocking blends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: “Eventually everybody gets what they want here, Warren. Even you. What do you really, really want?”





	What Happens In Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a Limbo story. This is what happened.

If anyone had asked, Warren would have blamed it on the Hole-nado. 

She had said let's go and Murphy, as always, had held them up so he could “freshen up” first. When five minutes passed with no sign of him, Warren knew he'd be awhile and decided she had to know what the Hole-nado was before they left, so she went looking for it. The building wasn't big, but it was confusingly built; stairs that went up just to immediately go down, doors that led to empty rooms and walls that turned into doors. It's not like she'd had a lot of time to get a clear picture of the place. Which is how she went up a brief flight of stairs and opened the door to find Murphy inside and half-naked, clad only in a pair of tight jeans. 

He yelped and held the shirt in his hands up like a shield, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Shit, Warren, can't you knock?”

She stood in the doorway, staring at the decadently decorated room. The deep red walls had black velvet curtains with silver sashes slashing their center, and a huge circular bed in the middle of the room had black satin sheets that glimmered under the ambient lighting. There were silver and golden baubles everywhere, and candles, mostly unlit. Warren raised an eyebrow. “Did you loot a Hot Topic?”

Murphy made a face. “Cute. Can you shut the door? I don't want any lookie-loo customers following you in.” 

Warren stepped inside and shut the door behind her, and the pulsing beat of Limbo instantly disappeared. It was quiet in Murphy's bedroom, and she realized the thick curtains on the walls and carpet under her feet made the room feel like it was cut off from the world; a space to breathe. 

“What are you doing up here?” he asked, examining the shirt in his hands and then setting it aside. “Did Handless or Eyeless make you come get me?”

“I came on my own,” she said, somehow embarrassed to admit what really brought her. “We need to get going.”

Murphy walked into what appeared to be a very deep closet and then reappeared with a wine-colored shirt. He held it against himself in the mirror. “I'm getting ready,” he said, his reflection meeting her eyes. 

“Do it faster.”

“Would you like to pick a shirt for me? It's not as easy as you think to match this shade of red.”

Warren rolled her eyes and strode into the closet, but stopped so abruptly two steps in that Murphy bumped into her. “What the-” she whispered, staring at a room the size of a small bedroom and filled with clothes organized by type and color. Shoes alone took up almost the entirety of one wall. There were jackets and shirts on another, pants and what appeared to be everything else on the third. Warren took a few steps in, brushed her hands along the bright, clean leather of a pair of emerald green monk strap shoes. 

“Wow.”

“Yeah, 'wow.' The blends did all of this.” 

She tugged at the laces of a pair of black oxfords criss-crossed with designs that looked like blood spatters. “Where did they get it all?”

“Beats me. Look at this,” he reached past her and pulled out a pair of golden loafers. “That's real gold! They're heavy as shit and gave me massive blisters when I wore them for half a day, but they're real.”

Warren tapped the hard casing and smiled. “I don't know why you called this place Limbo and not Paradise.” 

“Downstairs is Limbo. We're upstairs in heaven now, baby, just like Dante wrote it.”

She looked up at him. “I don't remember Dante's heaven having gold-plated shoes and a jacket that looks like someone skinned a disco ball.” 

“Details,” Murphy said, waving it away. “You going to find me a shirt or what?”

“Maybe I'll just make you go like that,” she said. She took a long look down his chest, admiring the long muscles and faint hair that disappeared below his belt, and though it started off jokingly, by the time she'd made it back up again the room suddenly seemed a lot smaller and Murphy much too close in it. 

He crowded even closer to her, and she moved back, banging into a shelf. “What's the matter, Warren? It's just me.” 

“You've changed since leaving Altura.” 

He put a hand against the wall at her head, leaned in towards her. “Everybody changes a little in Limbo.” 

They both knew she could've pushed him back. She should've. Instead she lifted her chin, daring him. 

“I thought you said this was heaven?” she asked, trying to bring the playfulness back to her breathy voice. 

He leaned closer. “Heaven wouldn't approve of the things I've done up here,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered. 

“Murphy-”

“What happens in Limbo, stays in Limbo,” he reminded her, his lips brushing the curve of her ear as he spoke. 

“I-I shouldn't. We shouldn't do this.”

She felt his mouth pull back in a smirk. “Eventually everybody gets what they want here, Warren. Even you. What do you really, really want?”

She'd given up wanting anything for herself. There was no time for it anymore, not with Newmerica and Dante and the people who'd already died. But this room - the absurdly large closet, the bed that looked soft and smooth, the sweet scent that layered gently over all of it – this was a place out of time. Warren let herself crack open a small piece of the shell around her needs, and ran her hands up Murphy's bare chest, over the rough ridges of his scars, smiling up at him when he jerked his head back to look at her. His skin burned under her hands; his eyes burned her with their desire. 

She ran her fingers up to his shoulders, and then clasped them together behind his neck. “What about you?” she asked. “What does the Big Red One really, _really_ want?”

“Warren,” he groaned. He shifted her over and then picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him while he pushed her up against a soft wall of shirts. He buried his face in her neck and just seemed to breathe her in. She moved her body against his, her needs suddenly battering against her tightly held control. He moaned into her skin and mouthed the curve of her neck, his lips like a brand. Warren wrapped her hands in Murphy's long hair and tugged, pulling his head away. His eyes were as hot as his chest pressed hard against hers. 

There wasn't time for any of this, for all the things they had coming to them. But she took it anyway, kissing him ferociously. His hands tightened on her ass and he ground up against her, making her gasp. 

“The bed,” she whispered against his lips. “Now.” 

Murphy carried her over, kissing her the whole time, and expertly knelt down to lay her underneath him. The bed was the softest thing she'd been on maybe ever, the sheets cool against her fevered body. Murphy pushed himself up, staring down at her with open adoration, his lips redder than his skin. 

There was a loud knock on the door and they both jumped. 

“GO AWAY,” Murphy yelled even as it flung open and Wesson barged inside, skidding to a halt.

“Mr. Murphy, are you all right?”

Warren rolled off the bed as Murphy leapt to his feet. “I'm fine! Or I was! What are you doing here?!”

“There was so much emotion coming from you, we didn't know what was happening. It overwhelmed us.” Behind Wesson were several other blends, all peering inside. 

Warren looked at Murphy, but he stared straight ahead, ignoring her. She could see his erection pressed hard against his tight jeans and mentally cursed the blends herself. 

“Get out of here,” Murphy hissed. The blends went wide-eyed and backed hastily out of the room, tripping over themselves with apologies before slamming the door shut again. It cut off the music of Limbo, but the room still felt heavy with the broken dream of a moment before. 

They stood like that, Warren staring at Murphy, Murphy staring at the door, for a long, silent minute. Eventually, he inclined his head, still not looking at her. 

“It's getting late. I should finish getting dressed,” he said quietly. 

Warren pursed her lips and nodded, re-sealing the tidal wave of her desires for another time. She headed for the door, opened it, and paused when Murphy asked, his voice deep, “What are you really doing here?” 

“I was looking for something.” 

“Did you find what you wanted?” 

Driving music washed over her from below. “You were right. Eventually everybody gets what they want here,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Murphy did look at her then, a slow, salacious smile lighting his face. Warren winked and headed back into Limbo, holding that dark, dreamy bedroom in her heart for a better time.


End file.
